You taught me how to love,
You showed me how tomorrow and today
My life is diff'rent from the yesterday;
And you, you taught me how to love
And darling I will always cherish you
Today, tomorrow and forever.
When I Met You, by Apo Hiking Society
Other songs of inspiration:
Better Days, by Dianne Reeves
The next day of the World Conference was sunny again, delighting Russia. He decided to go early, in the hopes of being able to talk to America before the meeting. Lithuania watched him leave, noting his quick stride and complacent smile.
"How long has it been?" he asked, turning back to the other Baltics. They were sitting at the table again, Latvia building a playing card house, Estonia reading a book.
"I'd say about two months," Estonia said, glancing up at Lithuania. "How long do you think it'll take?"
"Be specific, Eduard," Lithuania requested. "For what specifically?"
"For Russia to realize America's got a huge crush on him," Estonia determined, setting the book down and watching Lithuania intently over his glasses. "And how do you think he'll respond?"
"How do you know America likes Russia?" Latvia asked, arching his eyebrows questioningly. The Eastern country certainly liked Russia, but Latvia could find nothing to indicate that America liked him in that way.
"When you get as old as we are, Raivis, you'll be able to tell," Lithuania said mysteriously.
"You're only four years older than me, Toris," Latvia reminded him. "So what's the real reason?"
Lithuania laughed quietly --and slightly condescendingly in Latvia's opinion-- and went back to the card house. Estonia glared at him disdainfully before turning back to Latvia.
"Think of it this way: When is the last time you've seen Russia act like this?" he said, picking his book back up.
"Ivan!" Russia turned around at the familiar voice calling his name. He smiled when he saw America running toward him, nearly tripping in his haste.
"Good morning Alfred," Russia said. America finally stopped, breathing slightly elevated from running to catch up with the Russian, and his hair was slightly disheveled. But he was smiling, and Russia felt himself start to calm down in his presence.
"You're early today," America commented, sitting down on the stone steps to the building. It was actually too early, so it was locked, and wouldn't be opened for a while longer. How long, though, America didn't really know.
"As are you, da?" Russia asked, sitting next to the American and relaxing on the stone. It had warmed in the sun, and was actually quite comfortable. Much more than sitting on the steps of his regular house back in Russia, where it was always cold and snow was omnipresent.
"Yeah, I guess I am," America said. "But, you know, a hero is always early."
"But it is quite common that you are late," Russia said, perplexed. America was often barging into meetings as much as thirty minutes late, with excuses like he had to get a coffee or something insipid of that nature.
"Well, either early, or fashionably late," America said, simpering. Russia laughed softly, as only America seemed to be able to make him do. He wondered if America was still interested in visiting him back in Russia. It wasn't much, but parts of his homeland were quite beautiful. It would be nice to be able to show it to his close friend.
And as if reading his mind, America smiled. "Were you serious about letting me visit?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.
"Da, I was serious. Are you sure that you would still like to go?" Russia responded, hitching his scarf more firmly around his neck. The slight wind was blowing his hair back, and almost unfurling the scarf from his shoulders.
"I'm totally sure! I can't wait to see it!" America was positively exuding happiness, beaming widely and practically bouncing up and down. Russia had to smile at his friend's cheerfulness; it was quite cute, in an odd way.
"I shall have to take you to the Red Square of Moscow," Russia said enthusiastically. "And perhaps the Tverskaya Street, as well."
The two began to plan out America's visit, chatting animatedly about where to go and what to see. Soon, Russia was smiling as widely as America, and was gesticulating with his hands to describe the impossible descriptions of the new-fallen snow on the Grand Cascade in Peterhof, and how the Volcanoes of Kamchatka looked reflected in the water. America's eyes were wide, listening intently, and smiling at Russia's descriptions. It sounded wonderful, and Russia was making America even more anxious to go.
"When can we go?" he finally asked. Russia's violaceous eyes were shining with happiness. It was only when America asked that he could remember the true beauty of his homeland. He had been so caught up in his misery and loneliness that he had forgotten what Russia was like if he looked hard enough. He remembered the kindness of the priests in their ornate churches, the purity of the snow on top of mountains and rooftops, and the laughter of children when they got out of school, amusing themselves with snowball fights and shrieking with joy when they were hit with the powdery whiteness.
"As soon as you want," Russia murmured. America noticed the change in his friend's voice immediately.
"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Oh, nyet, America," Russia said. "You have done nothing. I was just remembering my homeland, that is all." Seeing America's still concerned look, he added, "I promise." And only then did America look satisfied again.
"Good. But I want to go soon! Like, now!" America smiled at Russia again.
"Well, I doubt that leaving before the World Conference is over would be acceptable," Russia reasoned, chuckling at America's disappointed pout. "But, we could go after the conference."
"How soon after?" America asked hopefully. Russia made it sound like a wondrous place, and he couldn't wait to see where the man had grown up.
"It depends. How soon can you pack?" Russia questioned. America was glowing with joy by that point, estimating how quickly he could throw random clothes into an old suitcase and toss it down the stairs of his apartment.
"About two minutes, not counting the time it'll take me to shut the suitcase," America said. Russia looked slightly confused at that comment. "I pack horribly, so the lid doesn't shut unless I can get someone to sit on it most of the time," he explained.
Russia laughed. "It's a plan then," he said.
America's gem-like eyes glimmered as he replied, "No. It's a date."
For some reason, Russia felt happy when America said that. "Yes, Alfred. It's a date."
Author's Notes:
Yeah, sorry, it is kinda short. I swear the next chapter will be tons better! But for now, please enjoy this skimpy, pathetic little thing that dares to call itself a 'chapter'.
Reviews, please? And a nice cookie would be nice, too, you know. :)
